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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap C2^ Copyright No, 

Shelf„’F_'2- , & k, 

r\<*. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









THE MAKING OF A HERO 
AND OTHER STORIES 


STORIES OF CHILDHOOD. 


t? 

Bound in handsomely decorated cloth covers , small 
4to , illustrated , each 30 cents. 

How the Children Raised the Wind* By Edna 
Lyall, author of “Doreen,” “Donovan,” “We 
Two,” etc. Illustrated by Mary A. Lathbury. 

With her accustomed humor, the distinguished author 
relates how two children, by methods as amusing as they 
were unusual, “raised the wind” to pay off a debt on 
their father’s church. 

Adolph, and How He Found the “ Beautiful Lady.” 
By Fannie J. Taylor. Illustrated by Helene Toer- 
ring. 

A touching story of the devotion of a poor German 
immigrant and her son Adolph to a little girl, who, com- 
ing to this country on a cholera-laden ship, was taken from 
her mother by the health officers, and, together with 
Adolph and many others, placed in the hospital. Owing 
to a mistake in identity she was reported to have died, 
and Adolph’s mother, though nearly penniless, adopted 
her. The story turns on the boy’s efforts to find the child’s 
mother, the “ Beautiful Lady.” 

The Making of a Hero, and Other Stories for Boys. 

By Mrs. George A. Pauli, author of “ Prince 
Dimple,” etc. Illustrated by G. W. Bonte. 

Six stirring stories of real, live, every-day boys, who do 
the things that boys do in real life, as distinguished from 
what they do in books— and nowhere else. The titles are : 
The Making of a Hero, A Matter of Honor, How the 
Twins Went to the Fair, Apron-Strings, An Amateur De- 
tective, and The Old Fort. 

“Probable Sons*” By the author of “ Eric’s Good 
News. ” Illustrated. 

A little child, fascinated by the story of the Prodigal 
Son, whom she miscalls the “ Probable Son,” is the means 
of helping several wanderers to return to the Father’s 
home. 


Fleming H. Revell Company 

New York: 112 Fifth Ave. Chicago: 63 Washington St. 
Toronto: i 4 o&i 42 Yonge St. 


















































































































































































































































































































- 






















































































































































THE MAKING OF A HERO 


AND OTHER STORIES 
FOR BOYS 



Mrs. George A. paull 

(Minnie E* Kenney) 



FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
New York Chicago Toronto 


M DCCCXCVI 



Copyright, 1896, by 
Fleming H. Revell Company. 


/ 3 YfOO 




CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Making of a Hero 9 

A Matter of Honor 19 

How the Twins Went to the Fair 34 

Apron-strings 47 

An Amateur Detective 62 

The Old Fort 76 






THE MAKING OF A HERO 


A cektain laudable ambition had found place in 
John Edward Hildebrand’s heart at an extremely 
tender age, and it had grown with his growth until 
at last it was as stalwart and sturdy as John Edward 
himself, wdiich is saying much, as any one who knew 
John Edward would maintain. 

It was an ambition that overtopped the ambitions 
of his companions, but that was characteristic of 
John Edward, for he was prone to excel in what- 
ever he undertook. Mind, I say in what he under- 
took , for in those matters which were perfunctory 
it was his pride to accomplish less than any one else 
under the same circumstances could have accom- 
plished, or rather left unaccomplished. 

It was not in the direction of scholarship that his 
ambition tended, as his various teachers during his 
slow progress from the primary department to the 
lowest grade of the grammar school could have 
testified. He had resolutely and persistently de- 
clined to learn, and had, moreover, excelled in arts 
which were calculated to beguile his schoolmates 
from the paths of learning. His slow promotions 
from one grade to another had not been monuments 
of his attainment in scholarship, but indications 
that all hope of awakening in him a desire to learn 


The Making of a Hero 


and an ambition to comport himself with propriety 
had successively departed from each teacher in turn. 

But in other matters that John Edward consid- 
ered worthy of his regard he showed what he could 
do when his interest was aroused. It was a fact 
well established among the boys in town that he 
was the best jumper on record, and none of the 
feats of the last generation, handed down by tra- 
dition, equaled John Edward’s accomplishments. 
Those sturdy, chocolate-colored legs, stained a rich 
warm brown by the suns and winds of twelve sum- 
mers, had all the strength and agility of a grass- 
hopper’s legs, and almost beyond credibility were 
some of the stories told among the boys with bated 
breath, not only of running jumps, but standing 
jumps; and down by the wharf two clam-shells 
w r ere firmly embedded to mark the spot where once, 
on a notable occasion, he had sprung into the air, 
and the place where his stubby toes drove them- 
selves into the soil when he alighted. 

And yet this glory had never turned John Ed- 
ward’s head. He executed his prodigious leaps with 
a solemn disdain, as if it was all nothing to what he 
could do if he really put his mind upon it. These 
things were but trifling occurrences, to be taken 
casually, and in no way to be regarded with pride. 
They had nothing to do with his great ambition, 
which must have been of spontaneous growth, since 
neither in his occasional perusal of the First Reader 
nor in his every-day associations could it have been 
awakened. 

John Edward longed earnestly and above all other 


10 


and Other Storks 

things to be a hero. His ambition had not soared 
high enough to determine in what particular line 
he desired to cover himself with glory. There were 
ways and ways. Sometimes in the long hours in 
which he basked passively in the full blaze of the 
sun, sitting on the end of the wharf, with his legs 
dangling over the water which swished against the 
damp, mossy piles, watching for unwary crabs to 
crawl upon his chunk of sturgeon, he fancied him- 
self capturing a gang of burglars, shooting Indians, 
or flinging himself in the path of runaway horses 
and holding them up. But as long as he could some- 
time achieve heroism, John Edward cared but little 
how the opportunity came. 

It is the unexpected that always happens, and the 
day which was to fulfil John Edward’s ambition 
dawned as quietly and uneventfully as any other 
morning of his uneventful life. It was half-past 
seven when the sun reached the point where it 
blazed through the shutterless, shadeless window, 
and beamed full upon the boy’s face as he lay asleep. 
It awakened him presently, and with his awakening 
came the consciousness that this was u stock day,” 
when cattle and sheep were loaded upon the river 
steamer, and when John Edward felt that his pres- 
ence was imperatively required. He did not wait 
to woo another nap, as he did upon mornings of 
comparative leisure, when his most imperative en- 
gagement was with the crabs and the tide, but, 
jumping up, he made his toilet rapidly, and went 
down to the kitchen in search of the breakfast that 
he knew his mother had left out for him. 


11 


The Making of a Hero 


The extreme simplicity of his garments made a 
brief matter of his toilet — a coarse shirt, which, 
with its many and varied stains, was a whole vol- 
ume of reminiscences, and a pair of trousers which 
his mother had thriftily purchased a year too large 
for him. This necessitated their being drawn up 
well under John Edward’s armpits to allow his legs 
the untrammeled freedom in which he delighted, 
and doubtless when his mother had adorned them 
with the many and party-colored patches which 
gave them a variegated appearance, she had felt 
that her thrifty forethought was to be defeated by 
hard usage and neglect, for there was no reasonable 
ground for hope that another year would find aught 
of the original garment left. 

It took a few moments to adjust a greasy rag 
about his last stone bruise, and then, taking his 
breakfast informally in his hand, and wholly eschew- 
ing the conventional habits of washing or adjusting 
his hair, he sallied forth, all unconscious that he was 
on the road which led by a short cut to ambition 
achieved. 

His cheeks were bulging with the last of his bread 
and butter as he reached the wharf, and took his 
customary position upon the top of one of the tall 
posts at the corner of the wharf, where he could 
maintain a general oversight. 

Stock days were always throbbing with possibil- 
ities of excitement. From miles back in the country 
farmers drove in their cattle and sheep, and brought 
the cackling denizens of the poultry-yard, and fat 
pigs which could barely be coaxed to move about, 
12 


and Other Stories 

oppressed with their own greatness. There were 
days when all the stock went aboard with as little 
remonstrance as wooden animals vanish in a Noah’s 
ark, but there were other days when the bleating 
and cackling, the bellowing and grunting, raised a 
pandemonium dear to the heart of John Edward ; 
and there were still more delightful days when a 
flock of frightened sheep would bolt and play “ fol- 
low my leader” up the village street, only to be 
recaptured after much effort and loss of time by 
the village in general, while the steamer issued 
piercing, impatient shrieks as signals of haste. 

But more and greater things were in store that 
morning, and John Edward little knew how he 
should crown himself with glory when he descended 
from his perch. 

Beauty, the magnificent animal who had been at 
once the pride and the terror of his owner, was to 
be shipped to the city that morning, and he had 
been bewildered at the unusual proceedings, as half 
a dozen men with heavy ropes had made his escape 
from their control a matter of impossibility. He 
was angered and humiliated as he was led off captive, 
not recognizing all the precautions as compliments 
paid to his strength and spirit. He had been led 
along peacefully enough until he reached the middle 
of the long wharf, but then he tossed his magnificent 
head back and snuffed scornfully and wrathfully. 
The confusion, the crowds, the steamer with its 
funnels pouring out smoke and every now and then 
whistling shrilly, the mingled noises of the poor 
animals who seemed to recognize that they were 

13 


The Making of a Hero 


being sent to slaughter, and lustily protested— all 
this enraged young Beauty, and he felt that the 
time had come for passive endurance to cease and 
active opposition to begin. 

He stopped, and stopped with an angry gleam in 
his eye and an air of decision in his attitude that 
foretold trouble. There was a speedy consultation, 
and it was agreed that no effort should be made to 
alter his determination until the rest of the animals 
were shipped and the wharf cleared. The possibil- 
ities were too great to invoke lightly. At last the 
dusty, spindle-legged sheep had skurried aboard the 
steamer, and were cribbed ; the patient calves, with 
tied legs, had been carried on the vessel dangling 
uncomfortably over brawny shoulders; the hens 
and pigeons had been stowed away, and the wharf 
cleared of most of the crowd who were gathered 
there from interest or necessity. No one disturbed 
John Edward on his lofty perch, and no one noticed 
a little child who stood, Casabianca-like, where his 
father had placed him when he went aboard to see 
some friends off. He was in the saloon, and never 
thought of the child again, knowing he would stay 
where he was told to stay, and supposing that he 
had left him in a safe place out of harm’s way. 

Then, as the steamer blew a long, piercing whistle, 
the men tried to start Beauty on his way again ; 
first with soothing cajolery, then with shouts, with 
thwacks and kicks. Like a king, the beautiful ani- 
mal stood unmoved, apparently unconscious of every 
effort, but he was swelling with wrath. Under that 
shining black skin was a heart beating fast with 
14 


and Other Stories 

anger and obstinacy. Not an inch would he move, 
though five or six men threw their full weight upon 
the ropes to tug him forward. He stood like a 
grandly chiseled sculpture, and never quivered, 
though his nostrils spread with wrath. 

At last, with a long, deep bellow which was his 
cry of defiance, he let himself slowly down upon 
his haunches, getting a better purchase for resis- 
tance, with his front legs stiffened like iron, held 
immovable by his tremendous weight. But the men 
who were tugging impatiently at him forgot to ad- 
mire him in their impatience. There was a general 
feeling that when he did move it would be danger- 
ous to be near him, and every one left the wharf 
except the men dragging at the ropes, the wharf- 
hands, the little child standing patiently near the 
edge of the wharf, and John Edward upon his lofty 
perch. 

With an angry imprecation one of the men dashed 
his heavy boot against Beauty’s white nose — a 
brutal kick. 

It was as if the beast felt the indignity where 
pain would have been unheeded, and, with a fierce 
bellow, he sprang to his feet and lunged forward, 
snapping the ropes like tow. The men fled for their 
lives, and the deck-hands hastily dragged in the 
gang-plank, fearing that he might charge aboard 
in his wrath and wreak indescribable havoc. 

Then a cry arose as the child was seen standing 
bravely at his post, in his little kilted skirts, his 
sunny curls floating under a scarlet fez. 

Beauty saw that gleam of red, and another furious 

15 


The Making of a Hero 


bellow escaped him. All men were his enemies now, 
and he would avenge himself upon that scarlet- 
capped mite of humanity. No one could reach the 
child, and the people on the river-bank and steamer 
decks groaned at the thought of what must surely 
happen. 

Beauty lunged forward with his fierce, sharp 
horns lowered, when, as people hid their faces that 
they might not see the helpless child gored and 
trampled, there was a shrill boy’s whistle that for a 
brief second diverted the angry beast ; there was a 
scudding of bare brown legs across the wharf, sturdy 
arms snatched up the terrified child, and with the 
full impetus of his swift run John Edward leaped 
from the wharf not an instant too soon, for he could 
hear the panting of the angry animal in his ears as 
he sprang. 

He knew that anchored a little way from the 
wharf was a broad float loaded with fish, and if he 
could bridge the chasm between, the child need not 
even have the plunge into the river, with the swift 
tide swirling under the piles, which would be the 
dangerous alternative. 

A breathless suspense, then a ringing cheer of 
triumph as, with an impetus that buried him knee- 
deep in the shining, gleaming fish, John Edward 
landed safely with his precious burden, on those 
sturdy legs which had done their work so well. 

Furious Beauty plunged up the wharf, determin- 
ing not to be baffled again, and as the terrified 
people ran in every direction, there was a sharp re- 
port, and the great animal plunged forward, his 
16 


and Other Stories 

death anticipated by the bullet instead of the 
knife. 

But the float was drawn up to the wharf, and 
John Edward climbed up with the child, who had 
not been at all well pleased at the manner of his 
rescue, and his plunge among the fishes, to meet the 
cheers and applause of those who had called him a 
“ ne’er do-well ” before. 

Not to all is it given to realize their ambitions, 
and the fruits of triumph were sweet to John Ed- 
ward. He could not feel that he had not royally 
deserved his honors, for where was there another 
pair of legs that could have achieved that leap? 
He thought with meager appreciation of the quick- 
wittedness, the presence of mind, that made this 
escape from apparently hopeless peril possible, 
though that was what others seemed to consider 
first of all. 

And afterward — no, this is not the moral ; do not 
stop reading yet — he found it so pleasant to be a 
hero and be well thought of by his neighbors that 
he arose from those fishes a different John Edward 
from the young outlaw who sat upon the post. 

When the child’s father made careful inquiry as 
to how he could best advance the interests of the 
boy who had done him an inestimable service, he 
discovered his love for athletic sports and his lack 
of love for learning, and so a compromise was 
effected which bids fair to turn out an estimable 
member of society. 

In the daytime John Edward has a fine position 
in which his heart delights, learning to become as- 

17 


The Making of a Hero 


sistant instructor in a first-class gymnasium, and 
in the evening, his eyes having become opened to 
the necessity for at least a partial education, he 
goes to night-school and really learns ! 

And treasured in his pocket-book are worn-out 
shreds of paper, once clippings from the local 
papers, describing the making of a hero. 


18 


and Other Stories 


A MATTER OF HONOR 


The “ Giants, Junior,” were in the best of spirits, 
for never since the team had been organized had 
they won such a victory. They had played a game 
away from home with a rival team in the next 
town, and in good, square, honorable playing, that 
had no element of rowdyism in it, had made a 
magnificent score. It was half an hour until the 
train should come that was to take them home, 
and, after receiving the compliments and congrat- 
ulations upon their playing which the rival team 
and their friends generously accorded them, they 
scattered to walk about the town until train-time. 

Somehow it happened that Ralph Moore wandered 
off by himself, an unusual thing, for he was such 
a popular boy that two or three of his friends 
were usually with him. Moreover, this afternoon, 
when his playing had more than once turned the 
scale in the Giants’ favor, and he had been ap- 
plauded even by the rival team, he wondered him- 
self how it had happened that he had become sep- 
arated from all the other boys. 

“ Well, I am a beautiful object ! ” he said, as, stop- 
ping in front of a store window, he saw himself 
reflected in the mirror at the back. His padded 

19 


The Making of a Hero 


foot-ball suit, once white, now bore abundant marks 
of its enforced and vigorous contact with the soil. 
His “ foot-ball hair,” which he had entreated per- 
mission to leave uncut for months, fell to his eye- 
brows in a decidedly tumbled condition, and he 
laughed as he remembered the remark of a boy’s 
sister when the team sat bareheaded upon his porch 
waiting for the time to come for starting : 

“ You look like prize chrysanthemums, with your 
stems well wrapped up in cotton.” 

And in the heads of long thick hair there was 
a ridiculous likeness to the luxuriant tangles of 
chrysanthemums which had amused all the boys. 
The mud and dust which covered his suit were also 
distributed impartially over his face, and if the 
people in the town had not long ago become used 
to the appearance of their own teams in all stages 
of dilapidation and hard usage, Ralph would have 
been distinguished with a good deal of attention. 

He got out his handkerchief and proceeded to 
remove some of the dust from his face, and en- 
couraged a lock of hair to fall over the bruise upon 
his eyebrow. While he was doing this his eyes 
roamed over the contents of the window. It was a 
stationer’s store, and there were the usual articles 
exhibited in the window, and Ralph was about to 
turn away when he saw a camera in one corner, 
marked “ For sale ; $10.” 

Ralph had never owned a camera himself, though 
he had used the instruments of two of his friends, 
and had helped them in their work until he was 
quite expert for an amateur. It was his great arn- 
20 


and Other Stories 

bition to own one, but as he was anxious to get a 
really good one, and as the kind he had set his 
heart upon was expensive, it was an ambition that 
seemed very far away from realization. 

J ust as a matter of curiosity and interest, for he 
had no thought of purchasing it, he stepped into 
the store and asked permission to examine it. The 
salesman was at leisure, and in the hope of selling 
the camera he brought it in from the window and 
spent some time in showing it and describing its 
advantages to Ralph. 

“ You see this is a folding -camera,” he said, as he 
touched a spring, opened the square leather box, 
and drew out the camera that could be shut into 
such close compass. “ As you can see, it is almost 
new, and absolutely as good as new as far as all 
practical purposes are concerned. The corners of 
the box are rubbed a little, but they would look 
that way in a few days if you got an entirely new 
one, you know.” 

“ It’s a beauty, isn’t it I ” said Ralph, with warm 
admiration. 

u It is indeed, and for a good all-around camera 
there isn’t anything better in the market. Why, 
you can do anything with it,” he went on as en- 
thusiastically as Ralph himself. “ Just look at this 
shutter. You can arrange it so that you can take 
a snap-shot and get a train going at lightning-ex- 
press speed, and you can fix it so that you can take 
a time-view just as well. And then you can open 
the back, and regularly focus, just as you would 
with any camera, through the ground-glass, or you 

21 


The Making- of a Hero 


can fix the camera according to this marked focus- 
ing-scale, and, getting your view in the finder, take 
your picture that way. And then, too, you can use 
either plates or films, for there’s a film-holder and 
plate-holders both that go with it. It’s a big bar- 
gain, for it cost forty dollars. The young fellow is 
just going to sell it because he has had a larger one 
of the same style given him, and so of course he 
don’t want two, and he marked it down cheap so 
that it would sell right off. It’s only been on sale 
since noon, and I suppose it will be gone by to- 
night, for any one with half an eye can see what a 
bargain it is.” 

“ Indeed it is a bargain,” Ralph said, for he knew 
enough about cameras to understand all the advan- 
tages that the salesman had described so warmly. 
“I wish I could get it,” he said, looking thought- 
fully at it, and thrusting his hands into the depths 
of his pockets. 

Suddenly a wave of color swept up into his face, 
that made it flushed even through the dust and 
perspiration. When his hands went down into the 
depths of his pockets he had touched a purse in 
either pocket, and it reminded him of what he had 
forgotten, that after he had started for the game 
this afternoon he had discovered at the station that 
not only had he put his purse, with his own money 
in it, into his pocket, but that he had carelessly left 
the purse containing the funds of the team in his 
suit from the last meeting of the team, which had 
been held after a practice-game. 

Ralph was the treasurer of the team, and the 


22 


and Other Stories 

collection had been large at that meeting, as several 
boys had paid np back dues. Altogether there was 
fourteen dollars and seventy cents in the purse be- 
longing to the team. 

The salesman went to another part of the store 
to attend to some customers, and Ralph stood 
planted before the camera gazing at it absent- 
mindedly, while his thoughts were very busy and 
his fingers were closed upon the fat, hard purse 
that held so much money. More than once that 
afternoon during the game when he had felt the 
purse bruising him in the rushes and falls, he had 
wished that he had left it at home, but now he 
began to be very glad that he had brought it. 

Ralph had very little spending-money, — far less 
than any of the other boys of his set, — but there 
was one large sum of which he was sure every year. 
On his birthday, which was only three weeks away, 
the uncle for whom he was named always sent him 
a ten -dollar gold piece. He had never failed in this 
gift since Ralph was a baby, so the boy felt as sure 
of it as he did of his birthday coming. 

If he used ten dollars of that money now to get 
the camera, there would still be enough for any 
casual expenses of the team, and then he could re- 
place it when he got his birthday gift. It was the 
only chance of possessing that beautiful camera, 
and it was such an undoubted bargain that he 
might never again, if he waited for years, get an- 
other such camera at any price that he could afford 
to pay. He had wanted a camera of his own so 
very much. Of course the boys had been very 

23 


The Making of a Hero 


generous, as boys are with their possessions, but 
Ralph was too independent a boy to like to borrow 
all the time. 

If there had been any doubt of his ability to re- 
fund the money before it was needed, he would 
not have considered the matter for a moment, but 
this was simply borrowing in the full assurance of 
being able to pay it back, and he was quite sure if 
the team had been there, and he could have asked 
them, they would have spoken as one boy, and said, 
“ Of course.” 

As to waiting till he should get his own money, 
that was utterly out of the question ; for surely 
such a camera would not remain unsold for three 
weeks. It was literally now or never. 

A clock struck sharply with a noisy whir, and 
Ralph started. Eight minutes left in which to get 
to the train ! That meant running for it, and there 
was not an instant to spend in thinking what he 
had better do. 

Of course it would be all right to get the camera. 
Why not ? And he dragged out the purse, hastily 
counted out the money, and, barely waiting for the 
man to wrap it, darted off for the train. He 
reached the station just in time to swing himself 
upon the rear platform of the last car as the train 
was pulling out of the station, and dropped, breath- 
less with his hasty run, into the nearest seat. 

Somehow he did not feel as exultant and happy 
in the possession of the camera as he had expected, 
and he was astonished to find a half-formed resolu- 
tion in his mind to put the camera away and not 

24 


and Other Stories 


say anything about it nor use it until he had re- 
turned the money to the team treasury and thus 
made it really his own. 

This resolution grew in strength, so by the time 
the train reached the station where the “ Giants, 
J unior,” were to get out, and he joined the boys 
on the station platform, he only answered vaguely, 
“ Oh, that’s some shopping I’ve been doing,” when 
they asked where he got his package. 

When he reached home he found that his mother 
was out ; so, getting the key from its hiding-place 
under a bush, he opened the front door and let 
himself into the house. 

He carried the camera up to his room and put it 
on a shelf in his closet, not even feeling disposed to 
look at it or undo its paper wrapping. 

“ There you’ll stay till you’re paid for. I wish I 
had never seen you,” he said, pushing it out of sight 
into the corner. u If I’d known I was going to feel 
so uncomfortable about it, I would never have 
touched the thing.” 

He went downstairs again and started up the 
kitchen fire, put the kettle on, and made some other 
little preparations for the evening meal that he always 
made when he reached home before his mother. 

The two lived alone together, for Ralph’s father 
had died two years before ; Mrs. Moore giving music 
lessons, while Ralph should prepare himself, by 
completing his education, for greater helpfulness in 
a few years than he could attain now if he gave up 
school and took any position in which he could 
earn some money. 


25 


The Making of a Hero 

There was plenty of time in the hour that elapsed 
before his mother came in and they sat down to tea 
for Ralph to think the matter all over and see things 
in a very different light. 

He had had absolutely no right to touch the 
money any more than if it had been money lying 
in the till of the store. Suppose anything should 
happen that he could not return it ? He could not 
ask his mother for it. “ Dear, brave little mother ! ” 
he thought tenderly, “ she has to slave hard 
enough anyhow, and I never can make it up to 
her, no matter how hard I mean to try when I am 
a man. Pd like to tell her about it, but I won’t 
worry her too. I know what I will do. I will 
write to that man to-morrow and ask him if he 
won’t take the camera back.” 

This decision made him somewhat more comfort- 
able, so by the time his mother came in he was his 
usual happy self again, and gave her a very ani- 
mated description of the foot-ball game and the 
victory their team had won. 

The next day Ralph carried out his resolution 
and wrote to ask if he might return the camera. 
He was so sure that the man would be willing to 
take back a purchase which was such an undoubted 
bargain that he could easily sell it to some one else 
that while he was waiting for the answer he did 
not give himself any more anxiety. He had lost all 
his desire to keep the camera since he had felt so 
uncomfortable about purchasing it when he had 
not the money, and it seemed to him that if he only 
had the ten dollars back again in the team treasury, 
26 


and Other Stories 

he would be so happy that it would not make any 
difference to him if he never owned a camera. 

It was a great disappointment to him when, in 
the course of a few days, the man wrote a polite 
but decided refusal to take the camera back. He 
was wretched over the matter for a few hours, and 
then he decided that there was still another plan to 
be tried. Perhaps the man would be willing to try 
to sell it for him. Ralph did not want to ask any 
one where he lived to sell it for him, for every one 
would wonder where he got it and why he did not 
keep it. 

He wrote again, and this time the man returned 
an answer in the affirmative. He was quite willing 
to do this if he received ten per cent, commission. 

“That means a whole dollar,” thought Ralph, 
ruefully. “ Well, it’s the best thing to do, and I 
can take a dollar out of my birthday money.” 

He felt more contented when he had taken the 
camera down and knew that it was exposed for sale. 
Undoubtedly some one would buy it at once. Such 
a prize would not pass unnoticed. 

But the days went by and no notice came to him 
that the camera was sold. He tried not to worry 
about it, thinking that each day brought him nearer 
to his birthday, when he would surely have his 
usual gift. It meant infinitely more of a disap- 
pointment to him than the postponement of his gift 
when, ten days before his birthday, Mrs. Moore re- 
ceived a letter saying that her brother was very ill, 
and asking if she could possibly come on and care 
for him. 


27 


The Making of a Hero 


There were a few hours of hurried preparation, 
making arrangements for Ralph to spend the time 
with neighbors, arranging about pupils, and pack- 
ing a small trunk, and then the train carrying his 
mother away had steamed out of the station, and 
Ralph stood on the platform looking after it with 
a feeling of cheerlessness and desolation that was 
not wholly due to sorrow at his uncle’s illness and 
his mother’s departure. 

What should he do if Uncle Ralph should be too 
ill to remember his birthday and not send him the 
ten dollars until it should be too late? He went 
back to do some few last things in the house that 
his mother had been too hurried to attend to, and 
when all was ready to lock up the house and go to 
his temporary home during his mother’s absence, 
he went up to his own room and threw himself 
upon the bed with the most wretched feeling of re- 
morse he had ever known in all his honest, straight- 
forward young life. 

It had seemed as if every day that had passed 
since his purchase of the camera had brought to 
him something that had intensified his unhappy 
feelings. Not a paper had he taken up in which he 
had not read of some one who had handled money 
which was not his own for his own purposes ; and 
it was a very ugly word that described this misap- 
propriation — embezzling ! The blood would surge 
up into his face, and it would seem to him as if 
every one must know the intolerable sense of shame 
that made his heart ache when he thought of it. 
No wonder that he was moody and irritable and 
28 


and Other Stories 

unlike himself when he had so heavy a load to bear. 
He was almost ill from anxiety, and instead of 
dropping into profound slumber the moment his 
head touched his pillow, he tossed about, sleepless 
and miserable, for hours each night. 

His birthday came, and with it his hope was ex- 
tinguished. Uncle Ralph was worse, and only a 
loving letter from his mother came as a birthday 
remembrance. 

u What shall I do f what shall I do ! ” That was the 
question that tortured him continually. At last 
the climax came. There was to be a business meet- 
ing of the team, but Ralph excused himself from 
attending, complaining of an aching and soreness 
in his bones which made him more inclined for 
bed. The deeper reason, however, was that he felt 
that he could not face the boys again until he had 
made good the sum he had taken from the treasury. 

A scribbled note from the secretary, which one 
of the boys left at the door for him, told him that 
the team had decided to give a reception to the 
visiting team which was to play with them upon 
Thanksgiving day, and they wanted him to get to 
the next meeting if possible, when they wanted to 
figure up the probable cost. 

Poor Ralph ! He felt as if judgment had relent- 
lessly overtaken him at last, and he had but one 
thought : to go to his mother and confess it all to 
her before he should be publicly disgraced. The 
hope that she could help him was but a faint, 
underlying one. To tell her about it — that was 
what he wanted most of all. There was just time 

29 


The Making; of a Hero 


to make the train, and without even putting on his 
overcoat, he put his own purse, which contained 
sufficient to take him to the city, and the purse 
containing the depleted funds into his pocket and 
started off, leaving word with one of the children 
that he was going to see his mother. 

Though it was a raw November evening, he was 
so feverish that he did not feel the chill, and when, 
an hour later, he was hurrying through the lighted 
city streets, he did not feel the cold rain beating 
against his face, nor notice the wind which swept 
around the corners. 

He was near his mother now, and that was the 
only thought in his aching heart and confused 
head. The doctor was sitting in the sick-room 
watching his patient, and Mrs. Moore had come 
downstairs for a little rest. She stood by the 
parlor window, looking out into the dusk, thinking 
with a homesick feeling in her heart of Ralph, and 
wondering what he was doing. A boy came hasten- 
ing along, and she thought how exactly he looked 
like her own boy in his general appearance and in 
his manner of walking, for it was too dark for her 
to distinguish his features. 

He stopped in front of the house, and then hurried 
up the steps. Why, it was Ralph ! and his mother 
rushed to the door and opened it before he had time 
to find the bell and ring. 

“O mother ! ” he cried, with a great sob of joy, and 
his hot face was pressed against hers as he felt that 
he could bear anything now that he was with that 
dear mother. 


30 


and Other Stories 

She drew him into the parlor and closed the door, 
stirring up the fire that he might dry his wet gar- 
ments ; but he cared for nothing else except to tell 
her the whole story. He could not tell it very 
coherently. His head felt as if it was on fire, and 
he ached so intolerably that it confused him ; but 
she understood, as mothers are quick to understand, 
and, holding his aching head upon her shoulder, 
comforted him. 

u Now, dear, we will talk about it by and by — 
to-morrow perhaps. I will give you the money to 
repay that ten dollars, so you need not worry 
about that, and for the rest of the matter, we will 
talk that over together when you are rested. You are 
ill and feverish, dear, and you must go right to bed.” 

He did not care now what he did, and after he 
was resting those aching limbs in bed his mother 
asked the doctor to come up and see him. She ex- 
plained that he had been greatly troubled about 
something. 

The doctor examined him carefully, and told her 
that the boy probably had an attack of the prevail- 
ing influenza, aggravated by his exposure of him- 
• self and his anxiety. 

The remedies he left reduced the high fever at 
last and quieted the pain, and Ralph slept as he 
had not slept before for nights. It was a trying 
time that followed, when he longed for his mother 
continually with all his heart, and yet knew he 
must be patient and do with only glimpses of her ; 
for he was only uncomfortably sick, while Uncle 
Ralph was dangerously so. 


31 


The Making of a Hero 


The day after he came his mother sent the money 
for him to the team, and she wrote that he might 
not be home for some time on account of illness. 
His mind was so relieved at the restoration of the 
money and his mother’s knowledge that he set 
himself to bear all the discomforts of his illness as 
bravely and patiently as he might. 

It was Christmas day when the two invalids left 
their rooms for the first time, and Mrs. Moore was 
so weary from her long nursing that she looked 
almost like an invalid herself as she sat between 
her two charges. 

“ I have a plan,” said Uncle Ralph. “ As soon 
as we are strong enough, young Ralph, I propose 
that we carry your mother off to the Bermudas to 
recuperate, and do a little recuperation ourselves at 
the same time. What say you f ” 

“ Magnificent ! ” cried Ralph, enthusiastically, a 
tinge of color coming into his pale face ; and Mrs. 
Moore looked her pleasure. 

“And about your birthday, my boy — ” began 
his uncle, but Ralph interrupted him. 

“ O uncle ! ” he cried, in a grieved voice, “ I want 
to tell you something.” 

Mrs. Moore slipped away, leaving the two to- 
gether, and the boy told his uncle of his impulsive 
false step, the impossibility of repairing it, and the 
load of remorse that had tortured him. 

His uncle did not make light of it, for it was in 
truth too serious a matter of which to make light. 
It had been appropriating trust funds just as surely 
as when a defaulting cashier takes the money from 

32 


and Other Stories 

a bank with the hope that by successful speculation 
he may return it. 

It had been a matter of honor when he had been 
intrusted with the funds of the team to hold those 
funds simply in trust, and he had forfeited the 
trust. His punishment of anxiety and remorse had 
been a heavy one, but Uncle Ralph assured him that 
he had cause for great gratitude that he had been 
thus made to feel the full extent of his wrong-doing 
at the very outset. He would never yield to such 
a temptation again after this experience of its con- 
sequences, but, remembering how easily he had 
slipped from the path of honor once, would guard 
himself carefully, that he might redeem the past 
and prove his worthiness of trust in matters where 
the right and his honor were concerned. 


33 


The Making of a Hero 


HOW THE TWINS WENT TO THE FAIR 


Rob sat upon one of the tall gate-posts, and his 
twin, Roberta, upon the other, swinging their heels 
and talking over the county fair, which was to be 
held the next week. It ranked second only to 
Christmas itself in delightful dissipation, and it 
seemed a very long time between fairs. If Christ- 
mas had not so happily broken the interval, it 
would have been even harder to have waited the 
whole year. 

From the time the twins were fat little roly-poly 
babies, they had never missed going each year ; but 
now, for the first time, there was much reason to 
fear that the delights of this great season would be 
withheld from them. They were facing the sad 
truth, as they had faced it each day for the last 
month, and wondering whether there was not some 
way in which they could avert such a calamity. 

They must have at least fifty cents ; twenty-five 
cents would not be of the least use ; for if any one 
supposed that one twin would go anywhere and 
leave the other twin desolate, it simply proved that 
that person knew nothing at all about the Brown 
twins. Together they stood — and together they 
fell, it might also with equal truth be said of them ; 

34 


and Other Stories 

for what one did, said, or thought, the other did, 
said, and thought likewise. 

They had one remembrance that sustained their 
courage at the thought of being obliged to stay at 
home when every one else would be enjoying the 
fair. They had thriftily saved every penny that 
had come into their possession since Christmas, and 
six weeks ago the whole fifty cents had been saved, 
besides ten cents over and above, which it is un- 
necessary to say could be expended in innumerable 
ways at a place of delights like a fair; but then 
granny had been taken with one of her bad coughs, 
and wanted a bottle of cough medicine. During 
the last few months half-dollars over and above 
those required for the actual necessities of life had 
been unheard of in the little family, and granny 
had protested that she must keep on coughing till 
she took a turn for the better, for “no way at all ” 
could she think of sparing fifty cents for the medi- 
cine. 

And then the twins had held long and earnest 
consultation upon the gate-post, their favorite court 
of decision. They realized just how many cents 
went to make up a half-dollar, — for had they not ac- 
cumulated that sum, cent by cent, through the long 
months? — but they also realized that dear granny 
must not be allowed to cough because she could not 
afford to get the medicine. 

They were generous little souls, and though they 
knew how extremely improbable it was that by any 
chance they would be able to earn or save the 
money again before fair-time, that did not alter 

35 


The Making: of a Hero 

their decision in the least that they would buy the 
medicine for granny themselves. 

They would not tell her until the medicine was 
purchased, for they knew full well that she would 
not hear of such a thing as letting them spend their 
fair money for her. Solemnly they slid down from 
their respective gate-posts, and trudged down to 
the village and bought the medicine. Eob asked 
for it, and Eoberta repeated the order so that there 
could be no mistake ; and then, while the clerk was 
wrapping it up, they stood and looked wistfully at 
the soda-water fountain, with its suggestions of 
coolness in the great picture of the Arctic regions 
that ornamented it. 

They knew what soda-water tasted like, for, on 
one never-to-be-forgotten day, a lady who stood by 
the fountain drinking some herself had seen the 
little longing faces, and had treated them. That 
had been something to be remembered ! But now 
a sudden decision came into Eob’s mind. 

“ Poor Eoberta ! it was harder for her to give the 
fair up than for me, because she’s a girl,” he thought 
chivalrously. “I know what I will do. There’s 
just ten cents left, and it’s mine, and I am going to 
treat her to soda-water and have some myself ; for 
I don’t suppose we can ever go to the fair now, and 
we’ll have the soda-water anyhow.” 

To Eoberta’s surprise and intense delight, he had 
escorted her across the store to the fountain and 
had bidden her order what she would like best; 
and the fascination of reading the long list of 
syrups and at last coming to a decision was some- 

36 


and Other Stories 

tiling that for the time quite atoned for the disap- 
pointment about the fair to both of them. 

But the memory of that refreshing coolness and 
sweetness grew a little clouded, and the keen desire 
to go to the fair grew stronger day by day. 

“ Oh, I just feel as if I could never bear it not to 
go, don’t you, Rob!” asked Roberta, after a little 
silence. “ But granny’s cough is all well anyhow ; 
that’s something to be glad of, isn’t it ? ” 

“Of course,” answered Rob, cheerfully. “We 
wouldn’t have the money back, if we could, and let 
granny go on coughing, would we, Roberta ? ” 

“No, not for ten fairs we wouldn’t,” Roberta 
answered most emphatically. “ Only I do wish we 
could go,” Rob went on, as he had said it and as 
Roberta had said it a dozen times that afternoon ; 
and just then granny called the twins, and they 
knew that the freshly ironed clothes were ready for 
them to take down to the village to the doctor’s 
wife. They went off happily, carrying the big 
basket between them, and still holding converse 
about the fair. It was pretty hard to think of any- 
thing else when the time was so near and the pros- 
pects for their going were so extremely dark. 

They delivered the clothes safely, and then, as 
they were going out of the yard, the doctor passed 
them in his buggy. Stopping the horse and smil- 
ing cheerily down upon them, he said, “If it is 
possible for you two chums to stand a short sepa- 
ration, Roberta may get in with the basket, and I 
will drop her at your house. I am going right past 
there, and it is rather warm for walking.” 


37 


The Making of a Hero 


In went the basket and Boberta after it, delighted 
at the idea of a drive, and quite sure that next time 
Bob would be the favored one, for the doctor dis- 
tributed his favors impartially. Bob walked along 
slowly, snipping off the heads of daisies growing 
beside the path with a little switch he had in his 
hand, and still thinking about the fair. “ It’s too 
bad Boberta can’t go,” he said generously. “ She’s 
a girl, and she ought to have things even if I don’t. 
I wish I could find some way of earning just 
enough money for her to go anyway; and then I 
could wait outside for her, and she could tell me 
all about it. That would be just as nice — perhaps.” 

It was a very dubious “ perhaps,” for, after all, 
what could even begin to take the place of really 
going to the fair one’s self, and seeing all the wonder- 
ful things, and being in that lovely bustle and con- 
fusion ! Not hearing about it, certainly. 

“ Hail, Columbia, happy land ! ” whistled Bob, as 
sweetly as a bird ; and then all at once his whistling 
ceased, and he gave one great jump that landed 
him in the middle of the road. 

A buggy, with a man in it wearing a linen duster 
and a high white hat, had just driven past, and he 
had drawn out a big red handkerchief to wipe the 
perspiration from his face just as he had passed 
Bob. 

“ I wish he’d give me a lift,” Bob had thought, as 
he saw the empty seat beside the man, and then had 
wondered who he might be ; for strangers were un- 
common enough to be readily recognized. But as 
he drove swiftly on something floated out of the 

38 


and Other Stories 

buggy and, whirling about a moment in a little 
breeze, fell right in the middle of the road. This 
it was that Rob’s quick eyes had seen and that he 
had sprung forward to pick up. Do you wonder 
that he held his breath for a moment, and wondered 
whether he was wide awake or dreaming ? 

If fairy stories ever came true, he might have 
expected that a good fairy would wave her wand 
and bring this very thing to pass; but as there 
were no fairies nowadays, and no wands that could 
work such magic, you can imagine how very much 
surprised he was when he saw that it was really a 
five-dollar bill that he held in his hand. 

Five dollars ! So much money all at once had 
never been known of in the little cottage where 
granny and the twins lived, except on quarter-day, 
when granny had the rent saved up for the land- 
lord ; and the very last thing that Rob would ever 
have dreamed of would have been that he should 
actually own five dollars. 

But as he stood there, beaming and happy, a 
sudden thought came that spoiled it all. Oh, it 
was far worse than if he had never found it ; for to 
have the gates of the fair swing open, and then 
close relentlessly in one’s very face, was far harder 
than never to have thought of going at all. There 
could be no doubt of that. 

Rob pulled the brim of his old straw hat down 
over his face, for there was a glimmer of something 
like tears in his brown eyes. Of course you know 
what he was thinking about. The money was not 
his at all, for he had seen the man drop it, and so 

39 


The Making of a Hero 

his first business was to find him and return the 
money. 

He was perhaps stopping at the half-way house 
a little farther along, where travelers often stopped 
overnight, and if he should be there then Rob could 
get that tantalizing bill out of his possession at 
once. It was hard to have it another moment in 
his hands with the knowledge that it was not his to 
spend. 

The glory had gone out of the sunshine, the 
sweetness out of the song of the birds, as he trudged 
wearily and forlornly along. He might have ar- 
gued, as he had heard boys argue, that “ finding’s 
keepings,” but the boy- granny had brought up 
knew better than that. He might have said that 
if the man was so careless he deserved to lose his 
money, but that was no argument to honest little 
Rob. 

The money belonged to that man, and he should 
have it if Rob could find him, and if he had not 
stopped, then the money should be carefully put 
away and kept, if it need be, for years, until the 
man should come that way again. 

It was a long walk for weary feet that had grown 
lagging with disappointment, but Rob kept bravely 
on, and as he came near the little hotel he saw that 
his surmise that perhaps the man had stopped there 
had been correct ; for there was the buggy standing 
in the yard, and the hostler was leading the horse 
out to drink. 

u Where’s the man that owns that buggy ? ” asked 
Rob, walking up to the hostler. 

40 


and Other Stories 

“ He’s a- setting there on the side porch,” an- 
swered the man ; and Rob found him there, in a 
big arm-chair, tipped comfortably back against the 
wall, looking as if he found this cool place much 
more comfortable than riding along in the sun. 

“ Here’s your money,” said Rob, walking up to 
him, and thrusting out the bill as quickly as if he 
feared that he might lose it if he did not at once 
restore it to its owner. 

The man took it and looked at it, and then he 
looked at Rob, and shoved his hat back as if that 
would help him to get his ideas straightened out. 

“ It’s yours, you know,” explained Rob, simply, 
seeing that he looked a little bewildered. “ I was 
walking along the road when you went past, and 
you pulled out your handkerchief, and this fell out, 
and you did not see it, and I did not remember it 
was yours until you were too far away to call after.” 

“And so you hunted me up to give it back to 
me,” said the man. “ That was a good little shaver. 
Well, sonny, what do you expect for it!” 

Rob colored furiously. 

“ I don’t want nothing,” he said, stepping back 
proudly. “ I didn’t bring it back to you for that. 
I brought it to you because it was yours.” 

“Here, wait a bit, and sit down and cool off,” 
said the man as Rob turned to go; “let’s have a 
little chat. Why didn’t you keep it ? Hadn’t you 
any way of spending such a pile ! ” 

“ I guess so,” answered Rob, enthusiastically. “ I 
rather guess so, sir. Roberta, that’s my twin, and 
me, we could go to the fair, and we could bring 

41 


The Making of a Hero 


granny home something; she don’t like to go to 
fairs, or else we would have taken her too ; and we 
could maybe get a basket fixed up with pop-corn 
and apples, and sell them there and make some 
more money .” 

“ Grot a good business head on your shoulders,” 
nodded the man, approvingly. “ That wouldn’t be 
a bad scheme — to turn a penny at the fair yourself ; 
I’m going to do that if I can. But look here, bub ; 
did it occur to you that you might have made a 
mistake — that this mightn’t be a five-dollar bill ? ” 

“Why, of course it is,” said Rob, earnestly. 
“Just look at it. I haven’t seen such a lot of five- 
dollar bills, but I guess I know one when I see one.” 

“Well, I guess, though you are a smart little 
chap, that you can get left on things sometimes,” 
laughed the man, and then turning over the bill, 
he pointed out to the puzzled boy a neat advertise- 
ment of “ J. Nathan, Men’s Furnishing Goods,” with 
the street and number. It was only an advertising 
scheme, but it was so neatly done that none but a 
very observing person would have noticed at first 
glance that it was not really good money. 

“ Oh ! ” said Rob, and then, after a moment during 
which his face fell, “ oh ! ” he said again. 

“Well, what’s the matter?” asked the man. He 
liked this sturdy, straightforward little fellow. 

“ I was just thinking if I had only noticed that I 
wouldn’t have been so awfully disappointed when 
I remembered that it wasn’t mine, and that we 
couldn’t keep it to spend going to the fair. And 
then I should have known that you wouldn’t want 
42 



. 


••• 









** a • - x . vx >*>'&*?■ ••• 

.■Llv.^a 























. 



















• . 

































































































and Other Stories 

it, and I shouldn’t have come ’way up here after 
you.” 

The stranger was a very sociable sort of a man, 
Eob thought, as he asked quite particularly about 
the fair, and learned how the children had spent 
their fair money buying medicine for granny. 

u Of course it’s all right,” said Eob ; “ only — only 
we did want to go so bad.” 

“I see,” said the man, thoughtfully. “Look 
here, my little man ; I have a fine idea. I am to 
be at the fair to exhibit swings, tricycles, and other 
things, like folding-beds and rocking-chairs ; and I 
shall want some help. I shouldn’t wonder if you 
were just the one I want. We’ll try it anyway, and 
you talk to your granny about it. If you will come 
and help me every day while the fair lasts, I’ll give 
you a pass for your little sister, so she can come 
and see you as often as she wants to, and then, if 
you do as well as I think you will, you shall have a 
real five dollars of your own.” 

It was worth five dollars to any one who loved 
boys to see Eob’s face just then. A radiant flush 
illumined it, and his eyes fairly danced. 

“Oh, do you mean that!” he asked, almost 
doubting whether his ears had not deceived him. 

“ Yes, sir ; that’s a bargain. Here’s my hand on it.” 

And so the bargain was made, subject to granny’s 
approval, though Eob was very sure that she would 
be as delighted as he was. How he sped home, 
forgetting that he had ever been tired, that he 
might carry the good news to granny and Eoberta ! 
and how they listened to his story, while granny 

45 


The Making of a Hero 


approved his honesty, and was glad that he had 
not even been tempted to keep what was not his 
own, no matter how much he might want it. Oh, 
it was a day to be remembered in the little cottage ! 

And the fair? Our fair, as Eob called it, with a 
proud sense of proprietorship. Never had there 
been a fair as great, as beautiful, and as busy to him 
as the one at which he assisted. 

No one could have asked for a more willing and 
diligent little assistant. He operated the folding- 
beds with an air of pride that said plainly, “ You 
see, any one with ordinary intelligence can manage 
a little thing like this.” 

He swung in the swings until every child at the 
fair petitioned for one, and the tricycles seemed to 
look at him with a knowing air, he took such pride 
in them. And Eoberta was so happy in watching 
his greatness that she came every day and stayed 
till he went home, and hardly cared to visit the rest 
of the fair, that particular exhibit was so fascinat- 
ing to her. 

The man who had been so much pleased with 
Eob liked Eoberta just as well, and many a nice 
little fairing he gave her, with permission besides 
to ride in the swing whenever she chose. 

Such happiness ! It was something to be talked 
about for years and years whenever the twins 
should sit upon the gate-posts. 

“And to think,” as Eob once said to Eoberta 
solemnly — “ to think it was the five-dollar bill that, 
after all, wasn’t a five-dollar bill that took us to the 
fair ! — ” 


46 


and Other Storks 


APRON-STRINGS 


If Charley had not been such a popular hoy and 
so well liked by all his companions, there is no 
doubt but that he would often have been taunted 
with “being tied to his mother’s apron strings.” 
But he was such a splendid fellow, and so gifted 
with all the qualities that go toward making a boy 
a hero in the eyes of other boys, that the taunt was 
never flung at him but once. A boy who was the 
captain of a foot-ball team, the best runner, and 
almost the best jumper in school, could hardly be 
accused of girlishness, which is what the term 
“ apron-strings ” is meant to imply. The boy who 
could cut the most intricate figures on the ice, who 
could ride any horse as gracefully and securely as 
if he were a centaur, whose muscles stood out like 
iron, and who did not know what sort of a sensation 
fear was, would not be a safe sort of a boy for a 
jealous companion to taunt with lack of spirit. 

But higher than all these attributes, and showing 
a truer courage, to my mind, was an independence 
of what others might think or say that made it a 
natural and easy thing for him to excuse himself 
from any gathering at an earlier hour than some of 
the others, and say frankly and gracefully, “ Mother 

47 


The Making of a Hero 


wishes me to come home early;” that made him 
gentle and thoughtful to every woman for his 
mother’s sake, apart from a natural chivalry ; that 
made him promptly decline invitations of which he 
knew his mother would not approve without any 
attempt to hide the real reason ; that made him 
openly avow that his mother was his chief confidante 
and “ chum,” and that he did not care to have any- 
thing to do with things that he could not tell her. 
And the hoys had grown so used to it, and recog- 
nized so well that this loyalty to his mother was a 
part of the Charley who was leader of the school, 
that it never occurred to any of them to criticize 
him or sneer at him for what was really the very 
crown of a splendid character. He was so popular 
that his example was followed more or less by many 
of the boys who might otherwise have thought that 
a deference to their mothers’ wishes was something 
to be ashamed of instead of acknowledged. 

One of the boys at school had a cousin two or 
three years older than himself, who often came 
over from the town a few miles distant to spend a 
short time and enjoy the skating or bobbing, and 
through his frequent visits he was almost as well 
acquainted with the boys as if he lived in the same 
place with them. He had taken a great fancy to 
Charley, and had several times invited him to come 
over and make him a visit ; but he was not just the 
kind of boy that Charley himself cared to become 
very intimate with, and he was quite sure of his 
mother’s disapproval of many of his manners. 

Hugh was seventeen, and felt himself to be at 


48 


and Other Stories 

least twenty-five, although he was still young 
enough to enjoy boyish sports with all the zest of 
his age. He affected a great contempt for the 
wishes of “ the governor ” and “ the old lady,” as he 
disrespectfully called his parents, and led the boys 
to believe that he invariably had his own way far 
more than was really the case, although he was 
self-willed enough to cause his friends a great deal 
of anxiety. The height of manliness, in his eyes, 
was attained by a swaggering manner and a cigar, 
with his hat cocked rakishly upon the side of his 
head; and he was as careful to disguise any good 
impulses he had as if they would be a disgrace to 
him. 

His parents felt more at ease about him when he 
was visiting his cousin than at any other time, for 
then he was thrown in company with boys who 
had no sympathy with his unwholesome tastes, 
which were, after all, more acquired by evil asso- 
ciations than natural to him ; and they were sure 
that for the time at least he would not be getting 
into any scrapes, but taking part in wholesome 
boyish pleasures. 

None of the boys really liked him or approved 
of his language and manners, and yet the fact that 
he was a little older than they were, and was the 
only son of wealthy parents, with an apparently 
unbounded supply of pocket-money, and was al- 
lowed to have his own way in matters in which 
they were under their parents’ control, gave them 
a sort of deference that they hardly acknowledged 
even to themselves, and the two or three boys that 

49 


The Making of a Hero 

he singled out as friends felt unconsciously flattered 
by this preference. 

He had taken a warm liking to Charley, and there 
was so much that he admired in the hoy that he 
was almost insensibly influenced when he was with 
him by his higher standard of true manliness. He 
never felt like using certain words when he was 
with Charley that he was in the habit of using 
freely when with his associates at home. He never 
met with any sympathy from Charley when he told 
stories of his cunning in defeating his mother’s 
wishes, and once, when he had told a crowd of boys 
of some particularly flagrant disregard of her 
wishes, that cost her a night of anxiety and a day 
of illness, he met Charley’s eyes fixed upon him 
with a cool disdain, as he said, “ And you call your- 
self a gentleman ! ” 

No other rebuke could have stung him more, for 
he was continually striving to be thought a “ gen- 
tleman ” according to his interpretation of the word, 
which was, after all, totally false, and was a mixture 
of a coward, a bully, and a rake. He never told 
any more such stories when Charley was about. 

Yet there was enough good about the boy, over- 
grown as it was by his false ideas of manliness and 
his bad habits, to wish that he might have the 
friendship of this boy, who, though much younger 
than himself, was his superior in both athletics and 
scholarship, and he could not help admiring the 
very qualities which he disdained to cultivate in 
himself. 

While Charley did not admire Hugh, yet he was 


50 


and Other Stories 

insensibly flattered by his advances and by being 
treated by him as if he were older than others. A 
boy always likes the companionship of another 
older than himself rather than younger, and Charley 
was no exception to other boys in this matter. 

One afternoon Hugh came over somewhat unex- 
pectedly to his cousin, and joined the boys when 
they were all out on the long hill, that was in prime 
condition for coasting. 

When he had an opportunity he drew Charley 
aside from the others and said, “ Say, I came over 
on purpose to see you. It’s a secret. Don’t let on 
to my cousin about it, or he won’t like it because 
he isn’t invited. We are going to have a big sleigh- 
ing party to-night, — a whole lot of town fellows, — 
and we are going to drive out along this road on 
purpose to pick you up and then go out to the Falls. 
We mean to skate a little while and have supper 
there, and then we can drop you on the way back, 
so that you will be home by half-past nine or ten 
sure. Can you go f ” 

Charley hesitated. Of course he wanted to go. 
He had seen the large sleighs filled with merry 
crowds often go by on their way to favorite resorts 
for sleighing parties, and he knew what fun it 
would be. But there were other things to be con- 
sidered. He did not know what companions he 
would have, nor whether he could really depend 
upon Hugh’s word that he could return at a season- 
able hour, and he did not feel at all sure that his 
mother would approve of this excursion if he told 
her about it. 


51 


The Making of a Hero 


“ Who are going ? ” he asked. 

“Oh, a nice lot of fellows,” Hugh answered. 
“You know Dr. Hoar’s son? He is going, and 
some of the students from Blake Hall. It will be 
a jolly crowd, and we’ll have a splendid time. I 
told them I wanted to bring a friend of mine, and 
I came over in the early train to tell you about it.” 

Charley knew who Dr. Hoar’s son was, for Dr. Hoar 
was the pastor of one of the largest churches in 
town ; and he reflected that if Frank Hoar was 
going there could be no doubt but that the rest of 
the party would be the right kind of companions. 
And it was certainly very kind in Hugh to think 
of him, and take the trouble to come over and in- 
vite him, especially when his own cousin was not 
going. 

“ I’d like to go very much,” he said promptly, as 
these thoughts flashed through his mind. “ Come 
on up to the house with me till I speak to mother 
about it, and then I shall know for certain whether 
I can go. If there is any reason why I cannot you 
had better know, and then you needn’t go out of 
your way for nothing.” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! you don’t have to ask permission, 
do you ? ” said Hugh, glancing at his watch. “ Well, 
we must hurry up, for I want to get that next train 
back.” 

The boys excused themselves, rather to the sur- 
prise of Hugh’s cousin, who wondered what Hugh 
could want with Charley when he himself was left 
out, and they walked briskly over the frozen snow 
up the hill to Charley’s home. 

52 


and Other Stories 


“ Sit down and get warm while I look for mother,” 
Charley said, throwing open the door into the cozy 
sitting-room, and he darted upstairs. 

u I say, Hannah, where’s mother ! ” he asked the 
cook at last, as, having made the tour of the house 
unsuccessfully, he dashed into the kitchen. 

“ She’s gone out,” answered Hannah. “ And she 
told me to tell you that supper would be a little late 
to-night, because she would be detained.” 

“ Do you know where she went ? ” Charley asked. 

“ Indeed and I don’t,” Hannah answered, whirling 
the egg-beater briskly. 

“ Well, I suppose this settles it,” thought Charley 
as he went back to the sitting-room. It was an 
understood thing that Charley should not accept 
evening engagements without his mother’s consent, 
and he knew that, however unobjectionable this 
party might be, he would break this compact if he 
went without her consent. And if he waited for 
her to come in it would be too late, for, in order to 
meet the sleigh in time, he would have to eat supper 
nearly an hour earlier than usual, and then hurry 
his steps. As for asking the boys to come later, he 
would not have inconvenienced the whole party on 
his account under any circumstances, and even if 
he did, it would either make them very much later 
in getting home or else curtail their time for skat- 
ing very considerably. There was nothing else to 
do but give the plan up, and yet he felt all at once 
a great desire to go now that it was perfectly im- 
possible. 

“ I’m sorry that I brought you all the way home 

53 


The Making of a Hero 

for nothing, Hugh,” he said, as he reentered the 
sitting-room, “ but I can’t go. Mother is out, and 
she won’t be back in time for me to find out about 
it. I’m awfully sorry, for I would have enjoyed it 
first-rate.” 

“ Oh, I say, that is too bad,” said Hugh, evidently 
greatly disappointed. “ You must come, you must 
indeed. What’s the harm in going without speak- 
ing about it? You can leave word with the girl 
where you’ve gone, and your mother won’t care. 
You don’t have to ask permission as if you were a 
little kid, do you ? ” 

Charley flushed a little. 

“Well, I never go anywhere like this without 
saying anything to mother about it,” he answered. 

“ Come on just this once,” urged Hugh ; “ I want 
the fellows to know you. I’ve said a good deal 
about you and told them about your skating, too, 
and I’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t go 
after all. Your mother won’t care just for once. 
You are not one of the fellows who has to be tied 
up to his mother’s apron-strings all the time for 
fear you will get into mischief. She isn’t afraid to 
trust you, I’ll bet.” 

Ah, Hugh had struck upon the right argument ! 
If he had said that deference to a mother’s wishes 
was being tied to her apron-strings, Charley would 
have resented it and not yielded an inch ; but when 
Hugh put it on the ground that his mother could 
trust him, and therefore would not require to know 
all about his movements, the temptation to go just 
for once appealed to him irresistibly. Perhaps he 

54 


and Other Stories 

wanted to show that he felt perfectly sure of his 
mother’s trust in him. He was pleased that Hugh 
had spoken about his skating, too; for, though 
Charley was not vain of his accomplishments, there 
is no boy who does not enjoy having them appre- 
ciated. 

Then the ride itself would be so delightful that 
moonlight night, over the crisp, frozen snow. Oh, 
he really must go ; surely mother would not mind 
this once. 

“Well, I suppose I might as well go,” he said, 
after a little pause of hasty thought. “I’ll leave 
word with Hannah, and then mother will surely 
know where I am. You say you are perfectly sure 
that we will get back early ? ” 

“ Oh, sure of it,” Hugh answered, delighted that 
he had over-persuaded Charley to go. “I say, as 
long as you will have to make such an early start, 
come on home with me to supper, and then we 
sha’n’t have to go out of our way to pick you up 
this evening. Every half-hour counts, you know, 
in a short evening.” 

Charley thought that, as long as he was going 
without seeing his mother, he might as well accept 
this invitation ; so, hastily scribbling a note for his 
mother, which he left with Hannah, he went off 
with Hugh. 

He did not feel very comfortable about it, 
although he kept arguing to himself that it was 
not any harm when he was quite sure that he could 
have had permission if his mother had been at 
home. 


55 


The Making; of a Hero 


“Most fellows wouldn’t think of it again,” he 
said impatiently at last, as he found his thoughts 
dwelling persistently upon what his mother would 
think when she came home and found that note. 
But most hoys had not such a mother ; that was 
something else to be considered. Altogether, he 
wished over and over again before he reached Hugh’s 
house that he had not gone. But he wished it 
far more earnestly after he was seated in the great 
sleigh, with its six horses and its crowd of boisterous 
young men, and they were dashing out of town to 
the accompaniment of shouts, blasts from tin horns, 
and a general uproar. 

Dr. Hoar’s son was not there, as Charley soon 
ascertained. 

“Either he or his folks had more sense,” he re- 
flected, as he found how unlike this crowd of wild 
young men were to any companions he had ever 
been thrown with before. 

“ Well, I suppose I can stand it this time, but I’ll 
never get caught in such a crowd again,” he said 
to himself, with a look of disgust in his face, as he 
listened to the stories which were received with 
shouts of applause from his companions. There 
were students and students, evidently, at Blake 
Hall, and it certainly was not the best class which 
had planned this ride. He was not sitting by 
Hugh, so he could be as quiet as he chose without 
any comment. When they reached the Falls and 
the others buckled on their skates, tempting as the 
ice looked, Charley had no desire to take any part 
in the fun. If he were only at home ! 

56 


and Other Stories 

“ These fellows are perfect rowdies,” he said to 
himself as he listened to them; and he kept away 
from Hugh so that he need not he drawn into any 
notice. He soon ascertained that Hugh had known 
very well that there was no prospect of their early 
return, hut had only assured him of it to induce 
him to go ; for supper had heen ordered at eleven 
o’clock, and the party had evidently determined to 
make a night of it. Charley stood on the edge of 
the pond, stamping his feet to keep them warm, 
and wondering what he should do. He would not 
subject his mother to the anxiety that she would 
feel if he should he out so late for any considera- 
tion, and yet how could he get home ? It was out 
of the question to think of walking, for the distance 
was far too great. 

“Look here, Hugh,” he said rather sharply, as 
Hugh came in search of him, “ I must get home. 
You know as well as I do that these fellows are 
going to stay for hours. I didn’t know I was get- 
ting let in for this kind of a thing at all, and I am 
not going to stay a moment longer than I can help.” 

“Come now, what’s the use of being a spoil- 
sport?” asked Hugh. “It won’t matter if you are 
out for once in your life. What’s the use of being 
in bed at seven o’clock every night ? You aren’t a kid 
any longer, and it won’t kill you to have a little fun 
now and then. Anyhow, you can’t get home. We 
certainly can’t send the sleigh back with you because 
you are afraid your mother will give you fits for 
staying out after dark, and you can’t walk ; so what 
are you going to do about it? Have some sense.” 

57 


The Making of a Hero 


“ If I had had the right kind of sense, I never 
would have been here at all,” Charley rejoined 
sharply. “ Anyhow, Pm going home somehow, so 
you needn’t look for me.” And he started up to. 
the little hotel at which sleighing and skating 
parties put up their teams and took their meals. 

He consulted the proprietor, and found that he 
could have a small cutter and a man to drive him 
home for five dollars. He groaned to himself as he 
ordered it, for he had a five-dollar gold piece that 
had been his birthday gift, and that he had been 
treasuring up for a special purpose. 

“ Serves me right,” he said grimly. “ I guess I 
won’t do this kind of thing again in a hurry. But 
it’s worth five dollars not to worry mother more 
than I can help.” 

Hugh came up with a companion just as he was 
ready to start, and began begging him to change 
his mind and stay a little while at least. Even if 
he skated for half an hour he could still get home 
as soon as he had expected. Charley declined so 
curtly that both boys were offended, and the elder 
one asked Hugh sharply what he meant by bringing 
a baby with him when some nice fellow could have 
had the seat. 

As Charley jumped into the sleigh, and the man 
stood by it with the reins in his hand listening to 
some directions the proprietor was giving him, the 
young man who was with Hugh suddenly put a tin 
horn to his lips and blew a piercing blast. The 
horse, a high-spirited animal, sprang forward so 
suddenly that he dragged the reins out of the man’s 
58 


and Other Stories 

hand, and set off at a wild pace down the road, the 
reins dragging out of Charley’s reach. 

“ I guess I’d better jump for it,” thought Charley, 
as he realized that he could not possibly get any 
control of the frightened animal, and that farther 
down the road there were places that it would not 
be safe to pass with a runaway horse. 

Watching for a big drift, he sprang into it, but 
his foot doubled under him, and as the horse dashed 
on down the road, and Charley tried to get up, he 
found that he had sprained his ankle badly. 

“ Here’s a pretty go ! ” he said, feeling that this 
was the crowning misfortune of all. How could 
he ever get home now? The anxiety caused him 
more distress than the pain, which was sharp 
enough to make him feel faint as he attempted to 
bear his weight upon his foot. However, the prob- 
lem of reaching home was solved more easily than 
he had anticipated. Before he had had much time 
to consider what he should do, a sleigh came from 
the hotel, sent by the proprietor in order to over- 
take the runaway if possible, and the driver took 
Charley in and made him as comfortable as he 
could be with a sprained ankle. He drove Charley 
home, every now and then finding some trace that 
the horse had been along the road, and the boy was 
so glad when he reached his own door that he for- 
got his pain. 

u I got nicely come up with for going off without 
asking you, momsie,” he said, as he limped into the 
hall. “It isn’t anything much, but I’ve got a 
sprained ankle.” 


59 


The Making of a Hero 


Although he spoke so lightly of it, his face was 
so white as the light from the hall lamp fell upon 
it that his mother knew how great his pain must 
he. 

The doctor lived next door, and he speedily came 
in and bandaged up the ankle so that the pain and 
swelling were more bearable, and at last Charley 
went to sleep, thankful that he had been able to get 
home at any cost to himself before his mother had 
had hours of anxiety. 

But the next day, when his mother was attend- 
ing to the foot, which was making him feverish 
with pain, Charley looked up repentantly into the 
loving face. 

“ Mother,” he said, taking the long strings of her 
white apron and pretending to tie them about him, 
“ it was all because of these that I went.” 

“ Because of what, dear ? ” asked his mother, not 
understanding. 

“ Apron-strings,” Charley answered. “ Hugh said 
something about being tied to your apron-strings, 
and that you could trust me if I did not ask you, 
and so I was foolish enough to want to prove that — ” 

“ That you preferred his apron-strings,” said his 
mother, with a smile. 

“ His apron-strings ! ” echoed Charley. 

“ Yes, dear boy. Apron-strings stand for influ- 
ence ; it is just a mere figure of speech, you know ; 
and if his influence was stronger than mine, isn’t it 
fair to say you were tied to his apron-strings ! ” 

Charley’s face flushed. 

“Yes, I guess that’s the way to put it,” he an- 


60 


and Other Stories 

swered honestly. “But, momsie dearest, I shall 
tie myself up so tight to your apron-strings now 
that I’ll never get where I sha’n’t feel them pulling 
me.” 

“ They don’t get you into scrapes nor where you 
wish you had not gone, do they ? ” asked his mother. 

“ Never,” answered Charley, emphatically. “ You 
don’t need to make me say that, mother ; you know 
it ; it isn’t fair to hit a fellow that’s down. They 
are just the nicest apron-strings in the world, and 
I never slipped the knot before, did I? But you 
may be sure no other apron-strings, especially a 
boy's , are going to tie me up any more.” 

And those strong young arms wound themselves 
around his mother’s neck, and there was a great 
deal understood between them that did not need to 
be put into words ; for where a boy and his mother 
are “ chums ” a great deal goes without saying. 

But of one thing I am sure : that all attempts to 
draw Charley, then and long afterward, away from 
those same “apron-strings” — the influence of the 
wisest and tenderest of mothers — only served to 
draw the knot closer and hold him the more firmly 
to her ; and any experience that brings a boy to the 
fixed decision of what influence he means to follow 
is well worth while, when it is a good influence, 
even if its cost is a sprained ankle and a season of 
regret. 


61 


The Making of a Hero 


AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE 


Nevins Martin had a very troubled look upon liis 
handsome boyish face as he sat upon an unopened 
box of goods in his father’s store, with his hands 
thrust down into the depths of his pockets, and his 
heels beating an accompaniment to the tune he 
was whistling, with a far-away look in his eyes. 

Nevins did not know a boy of his acquaintance 
with whom he would not have been very glad to 
have changed places if he could. 

He was coming to the bitter and practical realiza- 
tion of the adage : 

11 Oh, what a tangled web we weave 
When first we practise to deceive ! 

Some months before this time, Nevins had made 
friends with a set of boys with whom his father 
would have been extremely unwilling to have him 
associate. Unfortunately, in many ways Nevins 
was able to have his own way unchecked, as his 
mother was an invalid and unable to know any- 
thing of his doings when away from home. His 
father was so absorbed in his business cares that 
he was quite satisfied if Nevins brought good re- 
ports from school, without inquiring too particu- 
62 


and Other Stories 

larly into his associates and amusements during 
his leisure hours. 

When card-playing and, moreover, playing for 
money took the place of innocent and wholesome 
pleasures, Nevins soon found that his supply of 
pocket-money was far too limited for his needs, 
especially as he had to account for his use of it, and 
sometimes found it very difficult to enter plausible 
expenditures that would satisfy his father. 

He had complained of his scant supply of money 
one day to one of his new friends, apologizing for 
not contributing more liberally toward the expenses 
of a proposed pleasure, when his objections were 
met with a proposal that at first overwhelmed him 
with horrified surprise. 

It was nothing less than a proposal to rob his 
father, and it was no wonder that he was shocked 
by it. But the older boy represented to him, with 
cunning sophistry, that he would be in reality only 
helping himself to what was his own, since all that 
his father possessed would be his some day. 

At last he persuaded the unwilling Nevins to go 
into his cousin’s room at night and take the key 
which opened the back door of the store, through 
which his cousin, a boy of about his own age, went 
every morning when he came down early to open 
up for the day. 

No large sums of money were left in the till, but 
it was a convenience to have a few dollars there 
with which to make change before Nevins’s father 
came down to business and opened the safe. 

It had been so easy to carry out this simple plan 

63 


The Making of a Hero 


for small thefts that Nevins was easily persuaded 
to try it again. Nothing could have been simpler 
than to let himself out of the house after every one 
was asleep, go down to the store with his compan- 
ions, and empty the till of its contents. 

The hope in the older boys’ minds was that some 
time an opportunity might offer itself to rob the 
safe, but Nevins never thought of any plan as bold 
as that. He was quite satisfied to appropriate a 
few dollars from the cash drawer. He had become 
uneasy about doing even this when the frequent 
petty robberies became a matter of anxiety to those 
engaged in the store, but he was so completely 
under the influence of his evil associates now that 
he did not dare to disobey them. 

They even used the wrong they had already per- 
suaded him to do as a lash to goad him on to 
further evil-doing. If he protested against robbing 
his father any more to satisfy their demands, they 
would threaten to tell of his former thefts, and this 
threat always reduced Nevins to miserable ac- 
quiescence. 

If he had never taken the first step in this down- 
ward path, how much happier he would have been, 
he reflected again and again ; but now the web he 
had been weaving month by month was so hope- 
lessly entangled that it did not seem possible that 
he could ever escape from its meshes. 

The boys wanted more money, and had insisted 
that he should get it for them that very night. 
Nevins had rebelled, as he often did now, then had 
protested and entreated, and finally had yielded a 

64 


and Other Stories 

sullen assent, wishing from the very depths of his 
heart that he could shake off the yoke which was 
beginning to gall him intolerably. 

Just then his cousin, Ezra Bowden, came out of 
the private office with a look of trouble that he 
rarely wore. He had been having a short interview 
with his uncle, the head of the firm. 

“ I say, Ezra, you look as if you had lost the best 
friend you had in the world, and never expected to 
make another,” Nevins said, as his cousin approached 
him. “What’s up, anyway?” 

“Come here, and I’ll tell you about it.” And 
Ezra led the way into the large store-room at the 
back of the store, and seated himself upon a pork- 
barrel, while his companion perched upon a large 
sugar-barrel. 

Ezra glanced about to see that they were alone, 
and then began in a low voice: “I’ve been in 
having a talk with uncle. Some one’s been robbing 
the till again, and he doesn’t want anything said 
about it, because he is going to set a watch and try 
to catch the thief, whoever he is. The worst is 
that it must be some one about the store who 
knows just how to go to work, and who knows 
when there is any money left there, for when the 
till has been empty it has never been tampered 
with. I tell you, it makes me miserable,” Ezra 
continued, his face flushing hotly. “ I’d give my 
right hand, pretty nearly, to find out who it is.” 

“ I don’t see why you need take it to heart so 
much,” returned his cousin, with a somewhat 
studied indifference. “Of course father doesn’t 

67 


The Making of a Hero 


like the idea of having the till tapped ; I can under- 
stand that easy enough. But, after all, it’s only 
a few dollars now and again, so what’s the use of 
making such a fuss about it ? It’s just as well to 
watch out and catch the fellow, whoever he is, but 
why should you worry about it ? I don’t see that 
it’s any of your particular business.” 

“ Well, it is, then,” returned Ezra, warmly. “ In 
the first place, it’s an awful thing to know that 
there’s a thief about the place. To be sure, as you 
say, he has only taken a few dollars now and again ; 
but who knows but that, if he got the chance, he 
would not feather his nest with a good large sum ? 
And besides that, — well, it seems too dreadful to 
say, but I’m afraid it’s so, — I cannot feel sure that 
uncle does not think it possible that I had some- 
thing to do with it.” 

“ You ! ” exclaimed Nevins, in surprise, while his 
face grew as flushed as his cousin’s. “Why, you 
don’t suppose father would distrust his own neph- 
ew, do you — especially a chap who is as up-and- 
down honest as you are ? ” 

“Well, that’s what I have been trying to think 
all along,” returned Ezra, sadly. “ I never dreamed 
for an instant of uncle suspecting me, his own 
nephew, when he knows as well as I do how much 
I have to be grateful to him for, and how hard I try 
to do all that I can to please him about things. I 
came pretty near saying to him just now that, 
rather than stay where I was suspected, I would 
black boots in the street for a living ; but, after all, 
I can’t blame him much.” 


68 


and Other Stories 

“ I don’t see why not,” answered Nevins. 

“ Well, you see, though I’m his nephew, he really 
don’t know much about me,” Ezra replied. “ I’m 
only his half-sister’s child, and he didn’t ever know 
anything much about me until mother died, and he 
wrote to find out what was going to become of me. 
You know how kind he has been to me — how he 
has given me a good place in the store to learn the 
business, and taken me into his own house, though 
I’m only a stupid country fellow that isn’t any 
credit to him. Of course he can’t be sure that I 
would rather starve than rob him of a crumb, and 
it is only natural that he should distrust me rather 
than men he has had and trusted for years. I can 
see that it’s reasonable enough, though it hurts me 
awfully to think that any one could suspect me of 
taking anything that didn’t belong to me, after 
mother’s training. I’m bound to find out the thief, 
though, whoever he is, not only to clear myself, but 
to make sure that uncle isn’t going to be robbed 
regularly without any one being able to stop it.” 

u What makes you think he suspects you ? ” asked 
Nevins, with a little constraint in his manner. “ I 
dare say you are just imagining it.” 

u No, I’m not ; I only wish I was,” Ezra answered. 
“ He wanted to know where I got the money for 
the things I use for my camera, and when I told 
him that the old man who used to go about in a 
car taking tintypes left all his things to me, and 
there had been enough plates and chemicals to last 
a long time, he looked relieved. Of course I don’t 
think he tv ants to suspect me, but, after all, some 

69 


The Making of a Hero 


one has done it, and it doesn’t seem likely that any 
of the men he has had so long would have done it.” 

“ Ezra ! ” 

The boy vaulted down from the barrel and re- 
sponded to the call, only waiting to say, “ Don’t say 
anything about it to any one in the store, please, 
Nevins.” 

u All right ! ” his cousin responded. After Ezra 
had gone he still sat there listlessly, a decidedly 
uncomfortable expression upon his face, which 
might have been so very attractive if it had not 
been that there was a look of weakness and irreso- 
lution about it which made one hesitate a little 
about trusting him too implicitly lest he should not 
deserve the trust. 

A shadow of anxious thoughtfulness clouded his 
face as he sat there ; he was neither a malicious 
nor a deliberately wicked boy, although with evil 
companionship he could easily be led into almost 
any wrong-doing. He was selfish, partly by nature, 
and partly because his training as a petted and only 
child had fostered that trait in him. 

In almost everything that he wanted he was 
freely indulged, but where his father did draw the 
line Nevins understood his firmness and decision 
of character too well to argue the point. On the 
question of pocket-money he had very decided 
views. He held, and rightly, that too much spend- 
ing-money was a bad thing for a boy, whether he 
was rich or poor ; so he gave Nevins a moderate 
allowance, and required an exact account from him 
of the expenditure of every cent. 

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and Other Stories 

Kevins felt himself exceedingly ill used in this, 
especially in regard to the last requirement, not 
realizing what an invaluable business training it 
was for him. 

Though by repeated wrong-doing his conscience 
did not trouble him greatly about the theft, yet it 
did trouble him that an innocent person should be 
accused. 

Suppose Ezra should be able to prove who had 
been the guilty party? His face grew pale at the 
thought, but he reassured himself with the remem- 
brance that it was not at all probable that what 
was past would ever be discovered, and for the 
future he determined that no persuasion should 
induce him to yield again. 

In the mean time Ezra set his brain to work to 
devise some plan by which he might catch the thief. 
He was an ingenious boy, and loved to dabble in 
chemistry, electricity, and photography. He spent 
all his evenings for the next two weeks shut up in 
his room, and not even Nevins was admitted into 
his secret. 

One morning he entered his uncle’s private office 
with a bright face. “ Uncle, will you leave some 
money in the drawer to-night and let the fact be 
generally known ? ” he asked. 

“ Why ? ” inquired his uncle. 

“I have a plan which I am sure will detect the 
thief, whoever he may be. If you please, sir, I 
would rather not tell even you what it is till I see 
how it works.” 

“All right. I’ll give you a chance to see how 

71 


The Making- of a Hero 

skilful an amateur detective you will make,” his 
uncle answered. 

That evening Ezra spent an hour in the store 
alone, arranging his camera and flash-light, with a 
small battery, in such a way that the wires con- 
nected with the shutter of the camera, the flash- 
light apparatus, and the cash drawer. 

When all was ready, with a heart beating with 
hope, he tried the experiment. All worked pre- 
cisely as he had planned. As soon as he drew open 
the cash drawer the circuit closed, there was an 
electric spark, a blinding flash of light, and a slight 
click announced the exposure of the sensitive plate 
in the camera. 

Turning the plate-liolder so that a fresh plate 
should be exposed, he left it all ready to do its de- 
tective work and went home. He did not sleep 
much that night, he was so anxious to know whether 
the thief had put in an appearance and how his 
plan had succeeded. 

His hands fairly trembled with eagerness as he 
unlocked the door the next morning and went in. 
It was evident that the thief had been there, for the 
cash drawer was empty. He put away his ingenious 
apparatus, and waited for his uncle to come ; then, 
breathless with excitement, he announced the suc- 
cess of his effort to catch the thief. 

His uncle was somewhat incredulous, even after 
Ezra had shown him the ingenious mechanism by 
which he had connected the cash drawer with the 
shutter of the camera. 

u If I could be spared awhile, and if you could go 


72 


and Other Stories 

home with me now, I could develop the plate and 
show you whether I have succeeded or not,” said 
Ezra. 

His uncle hesitated for a moment, hut presently 
assented, and they went home together. Ezra 
quickly arranged the curtains with which he turned 
his small bedroom into a dark room, and then, 
lighting his ruby lamp, he opened his plate-holder 
and, putting the plate into the tray, flooded it with 
the developing solution. 

His breath came short and quick as he rocked 
the tray and the black lines began to show. He 
had succeeded, and in a few moments the thief 
would be revealed ! 

His uncle was no less interested now than Ezra, 
and, putting on his glasses, he leaned over the 
boy’s shoulder and watched intently. 

“There are two of them” gasped Ezra, as two 
forms took shape — one bending over the drawer, 
the other holding a candle. 

A moment more, and then, as the lines flashed 
out distinctly, a groan escaped simultaneously from 
both nephew and uncle, and Ezra stopped in his task. 

No need to develop any more. The curly head, 
the striped blazer of the boy bending over the 
drawer belonged to no other than Nevins. 

For a moment there was silence, and then Ezra 
turned to his uncle, his honest boyish face full of 
grief. 

“ Uncle, I am sorry from the bottom of my heart 
to have done this. If I had dreamed that Cousin 
Nevins had anything to do with it — ” 


73 


The Making of a Hero 


“ Say no more, my boy. It is better that I should 
know it, even if it breaks my heart,” and turning 
away, he buried his face in his hands. 

“ As soon as that is finished bring it to me, and 
then you had better go back to the store,” he said 
presently, going away and leaving Ezra alone with 
his plate — no longer triumphant now, but gener- 
ously grieved that his ingenuity should have be- 
trayed his cousin’s sin and pained the uncle whom 
he loved. i 

Mr. Martin sent to the school for Nevins; and 
when he came, wondering not a little at the unusual 
and unexpected summons, he did not give him an 
opportunity to deny his guilt, but showed him the 
evidence of it at once. 

The sight of his father’s bitter disappointment 
and distress was as severe a punishment as any 
Nevins could have had, and, breaking down, he 
sobbed out his confession and penitence. 

Although lie had not tried to exculpate himself 
from his own responsibility in the matter, his father 
was relieved to find that his wrong-doing lay more 
in weakly following bad advice than in plotting 
such robbery himself. ITe could feel as if the 
severance of his boy from evil companionship 
might yet keep him from ruin and help him build 
up an honest character. 

Nevins was grateful to be saved from the associ- 
ates of whom he had grown heartily disgusted, and 
he had realized so thoroughly that he could never 
hope to disentangle himself from the meshes of the 
web that had been entangling his feet more and 

74 


and Other Stories 

more that he was thankful thus to have it cut. He 
bore not the slightest ill will, but rather gratitude, 
to his cousin for having thus involuntarily exposed 
his conduct. 

Mr. Martin appreciated his nephew’s capabilities 
more than he had ever done before, when he had 
considered him a rather slow, painstaking plodder ; 
and as he reflected upon the patience and ingenuity 
that the boy had shown, he determined to give him 
every advantage that should enable him to make 
the most of himself. 

And thus even the sorrow which Ezra had un- 
wittingly caused became a source of great good, 
since it gave Nevins an opportunity to free himself 
from evil associates and redeem the past by upright 
conduct in the future, and it opened his father’s 
eyes to the necessity of closer companionship with 
his son and gave Ezra a higher place in his uncle’s 
esteem and affection. 


75 


The Making of a Hero 


THE OLD FORT 


“ Oh, I say, how jolly ! ” 

“ Isn’t it?” 

And there was a chorus of approving exclama- 
tions from the party of hoys on the little tug that 
was dashing along the Delaware River, churning 
up its placid surface into a wake of foam, and pant- 
ing and puffing as noisily as if it felt itself to be of 
the size and importance of the ocean steamer which 
was vanishing in the distance. 

It was certainly an ideal day for a charming trip 
— a June day, cool and breezy, with the blue sky 
absolutely cloudless, and the river reflecting the 
untroubled azure. 

Professor Palmer always took his boys for a 
day’s outing when school closed for the summer, 
and it would have been a great disappointment to 
any of his scholars to be obliged, for any reason, to 
miss this annual treat. 

They were steaming down to Port Delaware, 
where they were to spend a few hours, lunch, ex- 
plore the fort, and generally have a good time. 

They had just come in sight of Pea Patch Island, 
lying like an emerald in the middle of the river, 
with the gray fort upon it looming up against the 

76 


and Other Stories 

sky. A most delightful place it looked for an ex- 
cursion party, and as the bustling little tug pulled 
up to the rather tumble-down wharf, the boys, with 
one accord, gave vent to their enthusiasm in their 
school “yell,” thrice repeated. They were quite 
proud of the fact that their yell exceeded that of 
any college in the number and variety of its sylla- 
bles, and, although there were but thirty boys in 
the school, they exerted themselves so valiantly 
that they made quite enough noise for a large uni- 
versity. 

The officer in charge of the fort did not need any 
card sent up to him after that to become fully 
aware that Professor Palmer’s boys had arrived in 
the best of spirits and bodily vigor. 

The Camera Club of the school, phonetically ab- 
breviated to “K. K.,” had brought their cameras, 
knowing that they would undoubtedly have fine 
opportunities to get unusual views, and, although 
they had been frequently tempted to snap at pass- 
ing steamers or careening sail-boats on the way 
down the river, they kept to their resolutions to 
save all their plates for the fort. 

Lunch was the first thing upon the order of 
exercises, and it was very delightful to eat it upon 
the top of the fort, sitting upon the velvety green 
grass, and looking down upon the blue river rip- 
pling peacefully along, to lose itself in the bay four 
miles below, and then emerge into the ocean. Little 
sail-boats were out, skimming about like the swal- 
lows who dipped their beating wings into the water 
as they wheeled and darted in great circles, now up 

77 


The Making of a Hero 


till they were almost out of sight, and then glancing 
down as if they meant to dive after the fishes. 

The fishermen were out in their heavy boats set- 
ting their nets or drawing them in, releasing the 
shining fish who had entangled themselves una- 
wares, and were now to flap about with their com- 
panions in misfortune in the bottom of the large 
boats. Across the river on the right was a pretty 
little town, embowered in trees, beautiful old elms 
which had stood sentinel in the quiet streets for 
over half a century, and among their foliage rose 
the spires of the churches, and here and there a 
gabled roof. The graceful river steamer swept up 
to the wharf as the boys were eating their lunch, 
and the picture was so pretty and the light so good 
that, with one accord, the K. K.’s sprang to their 
feet and pointed their various kodaks, detectives, 
and time-cameras at the steamer, with its pictur- 
esque background. 

When the boys had finished their lunch — and 
this meal was no light matter with the hearty ap- 
petites that their early start and their trip down 
the river had given the party — they explored the 
fort thoroughly under the guidance of the officer. 
The great guns possessed a peculiar fascination, 
and some of the boys were disposed to linger beside 
them instead of keeping up with their guide, who 
was volunteering many interesting explanations 
and some incidents of war times. He told them of 
one prisoner of war who had escaped when the fort 
was in use as a prison, and, although weighed down 
by the heavy ball which was chained to him, had 

78 


and Other Stories 


breasted the river, and, notwithstanding his injuries 
and his chains, had made his way to shore. 

“And did he get away?” asked one of the boys, 
breathlessly. They were all disappointed when 
they heard that the poor fellow had been retaken 
the moment he landed, and brought back to his 
prison again, with added precautions against further 
escape. 

When they had finished exploring the fort, the 
party separated, some to return to a further exam- 
ination of the great guns, some to go out for a row 
with Professor Palmer in a pleasure-boat, while 
others begged permission to go with the man who 
was about to row across to the town and get the 
daily mail for the fort. 

The K. K.’s were in quest of views. They were 
competing for a prize which was to be awarded to 
the most successful photographer in the club, and 
of course each boy hoped that he might be the for- 
tunate competitor. One boy in particular had set 
his heart upon it, not so much for the sake of the 
prize itself as for the sake of the honor. David 
Murray could not bear to have any one excel him, 
either in study or play, and somehow he had never 
learned what most boys learn very early in life — to 
take a defeat pleasantly. It made him somewhat 
unpopular among his schoolmates, as can readily 
be imagined ; for it was not much fun to play with 
a boy who would fly into a passion if he was beaten, 
and who could not realize that it was a part of the 
game that had to fall to some one’s lot. He was 
not only a large, muscular boy for his age, but he 
, 79 


The Making; of a Hero 


was intellectually strong as well ; so, by dint of ap- 
plication and perseverance, he could generally hold 
his own in his classes, and by his strength of mus- 
cle in games that required strength and agility. 

He had but one formidable rival, and that was 
Frank Howe, a boy about his own age, who matched 
David very well both in brains and brawn. Frank 
liked to stand head in his classes, as he had always 
done until David came to the school, and he would 
not have cared to play games if he had not enjoyed 
victory and strained every nerve to win; but he 
could take defeat easily, and never had any hard 
feelings against the boy who excelled him. The 
position at the head of the class was pretty evenly 
shared between them, and at last there had grown 
to be a good deal of feeling, not only between the 
boys themselves, but between those who had the 
preference for one boy or the other. Frank was 
by far the more popular, and most of the boys were 
delighted, and did not try to conceal their delight, 
when he stood at the head of the class. This same 
spirit of rivalry had entered into the competition 
for the prize for the best photograph, and David’s 
face had not been very pleasant to see that morning 
when he set his lips and vowed that, by any means 
possible, he would succeed in getting the best view. 

He knew that Frank had four plates with him, 
and he made up his mind that he would wait and 
not take his own views until he should see what 
Frank had selected. With this plan in his mind, 
he followed Frank about at a little distance and 
watched him. Frank’s camera was a fine detective, 
80 


and Other Stories 

and it seemed as if unrivaled opportunities for 
getting the prettiest of views seemed to present 
themselves to him. A yacht with her white wings 
spread came past the island, and as the light made 
her canvas glisten like silver, Frank snapped his 
shutter, and the image of the graceful vessel was 
caught upon his sensitive plate. All his other 
views were equally good, and David’s face grew 
dark as he realized that he should have very hard 
work to surpass them. 

Presently one of the hoys in the courtyard called 
to Frank, and, putting his camera down, he left it 
while he ran down from the top of the fort to see 
what was wanted of him. It was only some little 
difficulty about adjusting a refractory shutter, and 
he soon came bounding up again, to discover David 
in the act of doing something which Frank would 
not have believed it possible that any boy could do. 

An ugly temptation had beset David when he 
was left alone at a little distance from the camera. 
It would be such an easy thing to fog the plates — 
just draw out the slides the least bit, and then 
Frank would never know but that the mishap had 
occurred when he was filling the holders at home, 
or he might think that the plates were faulty ones. 
If he had not wanted the prize so much, he would 
not have dallied with such a thought ; but he could 
not bear to have Frank carry it off, as he surely 
would if he successfully finished his yacht view. 
That was a view that a boy might not get in a 
year. He bad not much time to think about it, for 
lie did not know when Frank would return. He 

81 


The Making of a Hero 


sprang forward, and, leaning over the camera, was 
carrying out his contemptible purpose when Frank’s 
eyes fell upon him. 

“ Hello! you sneak! What are you doing!” he 
shouted, and David dropped the camera and sprang 
to his feet, too ashamed and astonished to say one 
word. Then all at once the disgrace of the whole 
thing flashed upon him. What would all the boys 
say when they knew what he had done I And he 
was sure that Frank would tell them. He knew 
that he would do so himself if he were in Frank’s 
place, and be very glad to have the opportunity to 
blacken his rival’s name. 

As the consequences that would follow rushed 
upon him, he blazed into wrath, and threw himself 
angrily upon Frank, forgetting that the top of the 
fort was a dangerous place upon which to tussle, 
especially when it was hot play, but desperate 
earnest. 

Frank was ready to defend himself, but he con- 
tented himself with warding off David’s blows in- 
stead of returning them, and shouted to him a 
warning that they would certainly fall over the 
edge if they did not stop their wrestling. 

“ I’ll throw you over ! ” cried David, who was so 
furious with anger that he hardly knew what he 
was about. He clenched with Frank again, and the 
two boys rolled over and over down the slight in- 
cline that led to the inside edge of the wall. 

“ Look out ! ” Frank shouted, making a desperate 
effort to stop their downward progress ; but David 
did not seem to realize the situation until they 
82 


and Other Stories 


were at the very edge of the wall, and then his only 
thought was of saving himself. Without an effort to 
save his companion, he let go his hold, and, clinging 
to the grass convulsively, saved himself, while, with 
a despairing cry, Frank went over the edge. 

Then a terrible realization of what he had done 
overwhelmed David. He lay upon his face in the 
grass and groaned in the very agony of his mind. 
He felt as if he was a murderer in very truth. True, 
he had not intended his words when he had said he 
would throw Frank over the edge, but he had done 
it nevertheless in his passion, and had not made 
one effort to save him. His pride, his intense 
jealousy, had ruined not only his own life, but 
killed his companion. He shuddered as he thought 
off the height of the walls and the hard stone court- 
yard beneath. There could be no possible escape 
from death. He knew as well as if he had looked 
over the edge the frightful scene, that would always 
haunt him, of a mangled body, so full of life but 
ten minutes ago. And lying there, he remembered 
that this ill feeling had been all of his own making. 
Frank had made advances to him over and over 
again, and tried to be friends with him, and it was 
not until he had found out that David persistently 
disliked him that he had abandoned all his attempts 
to be friends instead of rivals. He had done such 
a contemptible thing, first, to prevent Frank from 
taking the prize, and then — oh, he could never go 
on living after this terrible tragedy. 

The sunshine seemed to grow cold and pale, and 
he grew almost unconscious as he lay there too dazed 

83 


The Making of a Hero 


to move. How the time went he did not know nor 
care. He never wanted to speak nor move nor look 
at any one again. 

Finally he heard footsteps, and one of the younger 
hoys came up, with a pale, awed face. 

“ I say, David, Frank sent you this, and he says 
come down and see him.” 

He dropped a little folded note down beside the 
prostrate boy, and, walking with extreme care, evi- 
dently fearing that he too might fall over the broad 
wall, he disappeared down the winding steps. 

David did not open the note. He clutched it in 
his hand and tried to think. Frank sent it — Frank 
wanted to see him ; what did it mean ! Frank was 
dead , crushed by that terrible fall to which David’s 
hand had pushed him. He did not move. He still 
heard the confused murmur of voices rising indis- 
tinctly from below ; sometimes a bird caroled as it 
darted over his head, and the tug blew a sharp 
whistle; but these noises all blended themselves 
together confusedly in his ears. 

At last he opened the note. 

“ All right, old boy. I haven’t given anything 
away ; don't you , to oblige Frank.” 

And then hot tears came, and I am sure you will 
think that feebly scrawled note would bring tears 
to the eyes of any boy with a heart. Still, what 
did it mean! How had Frank escaped death! 
How had he been strong enough to so generously 
think of saving David from blame and entreat him 
not to tell what had happened ! 

It was enough to know that he was living ! His 


84 


and Other Stories 

heart overflowed with gratitude for that mercy. He 
would bear any consequences, suffer any punish- 
ment, and it would be light compared to the horror 
of believing that he had been the means of Frank’s 
death. 

But he could not go down — just yet. He wanted 
to see Frank, but he was too faint to move, too 
overwhelmed with the reaction to be able to think 
of anything else but that Frank was alive. 

At last Professor Palmer came up. He supposed 
that David had witnessed the accident, and, not 
being able to save his companion, had naturally 
been overcome by the sight. He came over and 
sat down by the boy, putting his hand kindly upon 
the head that was buried in the long, sweet grass 
with downturned face. 

“ God has been very good to us, my boy,” he said 
gently. “ In His kind providence, Frank has es- 
caped all serious injury, and is only somewhat 
bruised and of course shocked by the fall. They 
have been trimming the trees on the island the last 
few days, and a great pile of brush was under the 
part of the wall where Frank rolled off. He fell 
upon it, and it broke the fall so that he escaped the 
death that otherwise would have seemed inevitable. 
We have taken him down to the cabin of the tug, 
and I want to keep him quiet there till we reach 
home again. I promised that I would send you in 
to see him for a few minutes ; he is so anxious to 
speak to you. Come.” And as the professor helped 
him upon his feet, he was shocked to see how hag- 
gard and old the boy’s face had become. 


85 


The Making of a Hero 


“ It must have "been a great shock to him,” he 
said to himself. “Yet I had not known the boys 
were as attached to each other as I should judge 
from the way they both act now.” 

No one ever knew what took place between the 
two boys in that little cabin, but in those few min- 
utes was born a friendship which was lifelong. The 
boy who had come so near to death had no room in 
his heart for anger, and, in his thanksgiving that 
his life had been spared, he was generously eager 
that his enemy should be spared all suffering from 
which he could shield him, and all shame and dis- 
grace. He could imagine what David had under- 
gone since he had disappeared over the wall, and 
almost his first thought had been to relieve the 
mind of the boy who had lost no opportunity of 
proving himself an enemy, who would stoop to 
anything to injure him. 

And this generosity awoke all that was brave and 
generous and true in David’s heart. It was so 
earnestly Frank’s wish that no one but David and 
himself should know any of the particulars of their 
quarrel that David promised not to speak of it, 
though in the depths of his shame and humiliation 
he would have been glad to have confessed it all 
and borne any punishment and contempt. 

It was a quieter, though a profoundly thankful, 
party that steamed up the river in the tug a little 
later. Death had come too near to one of their 
number for the jollity and merriment to be so 
boisterous, but they were none the less happy, and 
by the time the city was reached Frank was able to 
86 


and Other Stories 

walk off the tug as well as any of his companions. 
Though he felt stiff and bruised, that was the only 
result of his fall. 

Many a hero had been within the grim walls of 
that old fort, but I account Frank as brave as the 
bravest of them all ; for he had won over an enemy, 
and with generous heart had shielded the one who 
had sought to injure him, and had tried to lift him 
up above the quicksands of jealousy, hatred, and 
passion which had come so near ruining his life and 
dragging him down into the depths of despair and 
endless remorse. 


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